


all and then most, some and now none of you

by nightmmares



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Pre-Relationship, Resurrection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-04-24 06:38:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19167823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightmmares/pseuds/nightmmares
Summary: Jester is a constant for Fjord.Until she isn't.





	1. Chapter 1

The bite of salt still sticks to the inside of his mouth, a permanent bad taste he’s had since he woke up alone on a beach. Fjord doesn’t know why he came back here, to Nicodranas. Perhaps it was the draw of the docks, an itch to get back out there and feel okay again. But Fjord thinks of Vandren, of Sabian, of the _Tide’s Breath_ shattered into pieces and Fjord doesn’t think it will be that easy.

The streets are busy; the sun is shining, which means profit for a coastal town. It is easy to blend in, easy enough to stray down an alley and search for dryer clothes. He feels a little guilty for grabbing them off a hanging line out someone’s back window, but he supposed he needs them more than him. Fjord has no idea what his next steps should be. He’s got no money, no home, and no job. There is sure to be plenty of work along the docks, but not many would take on a half-orc like him.

Fjord steps back onto the street, toward a general store he had run to a few different times when the _Tide_ had docked here. Perhaps the clerk will recognize him and throw him a bone, have some discreet busy work to put a few coins in his pocket. Fjord reaches the door just as a short blue Tiefling does, a skip to her step. Their positioning is awkward, she reaching the door a hair before he does. “Sorry, ma’am,” Fjord says automatically, stumbling back.

The woman looks up at him, the sun glinting off jewelry hanging from her swirling horns, purple eyes bright and surprised. “Oh!” her voice is high and breathy, and Fjord can feel heat rising to her cheeks. “Hello!”

“Uh, hello. I didn’t mean to block the door,” Fjord nods toward the door.

“Oh, that’s okay! Were you going in as well?” She asks, pulling the door open and stepping back to make room for him.

“I was, thank you,” Fjord steps inside, unsure of what else to do. Still unsure, he doesn’t immediately head to the clerk, but steps down an aisle. He doesn’t notice for a moment that the woman is following him. A blue Tiefling is hard to forget and he’s definitely seen her in passing here before. She had never spoken to him before this. “Can I help you?”

She startles, her own cheeks beginning to darken, “Oh, I was just wondering…you’re a sailor, aren’t you?”

That makes Fjord even more nervous. The salt in his mouth tastes particularly bitter. “Uh, I was. Do we know each other?”

“No,” she shakes her head and glances away, “but I have…seen you before.”

Any notice people have taken of him in the past has never been good. Fjord tries to settle his nerves, towering over her, “You live near here?”

The woman opens her mouth and then closes it, frowning a little. “I did, but…I got into some trouble. I have to leave, only…I’ve never left before. I thought maybe I could leave on a ship.”

She seems genuine, and Fjord feels bad for her. Something tugs in his chest as he watches her pause and examine a jar of some sticky looking substance. “Bad trouble?” he asks, watching her face.

She purses her lips and nods, “I…embarrassed someone very important. He wants to kill me now.”

Fjord’s eyes widen, “Oh, my. That does sound bad.”

She only gives him a soft murmur as a response, and he can tell that she is serious. She moves a few feet farther down the aisle and then turns back so him, “So?”

“So?” he repeats, confused.

“Can you help me?” Her voice is very careful, restrained. He wonders how desperate she is, if she had any idea where she was going or if she was like him.

To give himself more time, he says, “You don’t even know my name. What if I’m worse trouble?”

The woman smiles and it’s striking the way that she looks at him, like she knows something he does not and is delighted by it. “You don’t seem like trouble. In fact, you seem like a gentleman. And it’s a gentleman’s duty to help a lady in need.”

Fjord can’t help but smile back. Perhaps this is the opposite of what he needs, or perhaps this is exactly what he’s been searching for since the beach. There are times where he can’t resist the riskier path. Vandren had once admired that in him. Fjord sticks his hand out, “I’m Fjord. And I think we can figure something out.”

The woman beams back and takes his hand, “I’m Jester.”

 

 

-

 

Fjord has never been a fan of snakes. Never mind giant swamp snakes that make snacks out of innocent woman. Before he knows it, he is whipped across the face by the tail of the serpent and sent flying into a tree so hard he sees stars. Beau, the other wayward soul he and Jes had picked up, manages to force apart the beast’s jaws. Through his blurry vision, he sees Jester hurrying toward him. “Fjord!”

“Hey,” he raises a hand weekly, still trying to catch his breath.

“Are you okay?” her hands flutter nervously as she kneels before him.

“Yeah, jus’ fine,” he assures her, groaning as he sits up, “Not used to flyin’, is all.”

“I think I can help you,” she says, her voice brimming with concern. Before he can protest she presses her hands to his shoulders. His first instinct is to wince, but he finds that her hands are warm and solid against him. It feels like all the pain throbbing in his back seeps up to where her hands are touching him, and in a flash, it is mostly gone.

Fjord is shocked. He has heard of healing magic before, of course, but it’s never been wasted on him. “How did you do that?” he says, looking at her in awe.

Jester’s cheeks bloom a deep navy and she pulls back quickly from his shoulders. “I, um, I learned it. I have never really helped someone who was so hurt, though. Did it work? 

“I’d say so,” Fjord flexes his shoulder experimentally. Beau approaches them, her fists covered in snake saliva.

“I guess I’m the only one without magic here,” she says, crossing her arms. She seems upset about it, he thinks.

Jester stands and claps her hands together, “You killed it, Beau! That was very cool, the way you just _punched_ it like that.”

Beau shrugs, but Fjord can see some of the tension soften in her shoulders. He clambers to his feet and glances at the limp serpent. “Well, it’s good you were both here. Couldn’t have done it without either of ya.”

“Let’s go bring the girl back and get our money,” Beau sighs, “Do you think I could get a souvenir from that thing?” 

“Maybe!” Jester nods, and the two of them step back toward it. Fjord watches them go, his fingers brushing against his abdomen, where the worst of pain had been. Jester has taken it all away.

 

-

 

“Do you think you could teach me to do such good accents?” Jester asks him as they sit in a small tavern. The place is not crowded, but the few other patrons are clearly travelers like them. Beau has “retired” for the night with another short world-weary woman.

Fjord tilts his head, staring down at the food getting cold on his plate. Not that he’s ever been particularly picky with food, but he hasn’t had much of an appetite lately. Sometimes things still taste like they are tainted with salt. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you don’t talk like you did before, when we met. You always talk with that accent. I don’t think I’d ever heard your old one before. Even your new one sounds pretty cool.” Jester picks at a croissant, unaware of the tension pulling his fingers tight together.

Fjord shrugs, “I just thought it would be better to sound different. More like people expect.” He glances around the bar to see if anyone’s listening. They’re not. “Why would you need to sound different?”

This time Jester shrugs, looking away from her food, “I just think it’s a neat trick. I like tricks.”

“I’ve noticed,” Fjord snorts, rolling his eyes, “I saw that dick you drew by the dumpster outside while you “got some fresh air.””

“It’s not my fault if this town needed a little more practice in appreciating art,” Jester grins smugly. She doesn’t say anything more and he thinks she’s dropped the subject of accents. Finally she says, “I think your old accent was just fine. Whether people expect it or not.”

Fjord feels a tug in his chest at that, and he offers her a small smile, “You sound like my old Captain. He was a fan of it, I think.”

“Well, he was right to be,” Jester smiles at him and meets his eyes, looking at him in that genuine way that she can. Maybe that’s why he tells her the truth.

“The new…the way I sound now…” Fjord scratches the back of his neck, “It’s how my Captain spoke…Vandren. I always thought it was how sailors really sounded.”

Jester continues to stare at him for a moment before taking a bite of her croissant. After he’s turned back to his food, tips of his ears dark from the confession, and she finishes chewing she murmurs, “Well I like you no matter how what you sound like.”

“Thanks, Jes,” he says, but it comes out like a whisper, a breath. She doesn’t look at him and he’s grateful. Fjord is not used to people liking him for whatever he is. He’s not used to telling anybody what he really thinks. Anybody but Vandren…who’s gone now.

Fjord watches Jester subtly trace the shape of a penis into the wooden table while she eats. Maybe being honest with people isn’t so bad.

 

-

 

“Fjord?” Jester is behind him, her feet planted on the swaying deck of the ball eater. He had come up here to be alone, to try to make sense of what he’d learned. He’d seen the way Jester had been looking at him since their…banishment. Right now she knows the most about him, and it terrifies him.

He clears his throat in acknowledgment, glancing back at her. One of her fists is clenched around the fabric of her skirts. When he looks back out over the dark water, she steps closer and closer. She doesn’t say anything, which makes him even more nervous. There are so many things he doesn’t know, so many things he doesn’t even have the words to begin to describe to her.

When her voice finally speaks over the constant brush of water into the side of the boat, it is very soft and careful, almost blending into the white noise. “How do you feel?”

Fjord lets his hand brush over his abdomen, which feels as if nothing has changed, as if he has not absorbed some ghastly orb. What does he feel? He tells her the truth, “I don’t know.”

“That’s okay,” she murmurs, “Feelings can be tricky.” She is close enough to wrap her free hand around the banister before them.

Fjord doesn’t say anything, stewing in his own confusion. This prompts Jester further, “Like…how I love my momma. Very much. More than anything. But also…I didn’t always love how she hid me. I wondered if she was embarrassed of me. She said she was trying to protect me. But I…I still got into trouble. Maybe I only got into trouble _because_ I was hidden.” Jester’s voice is calm, almost flippant. It startles Fjord, to hear her speak this way. She’d always acted like she’d loved her childhood, hadn’t minded her circumstances. She is always surprising him.

When he speaks, his voice is coarse, “Vandren was family to me. He didn’t care what I was. He knew everything about me, he steered me in the right direction when I needed it. I thought maybe he was the only person who’d every really cared about me.”

It’s hard to say this. Fjord has spent his whole life trying to squash his vulnerabilities, keep himself carefully in line. He couldn’t be less, was never more, than Vandren wanted. But things have shifted his perspective lately—namely, a giant yellow eye. “Lately I think maybe he never cared about me at all.”

There it is. The truth, out in the open. Because if Vandren had cared, wouldn’t he have told Fjord the danger they could have been in? Wouldn’t he have let Fjord know about his past? Wouldn’t Fjord have some fucking clue of what to do?

It doesn’t matter now. Because Vandren is dead. Because there is a crew looking to him for guidance. They are knee deep in shit and they all think Fjord has a shovel. There is a twisting in his gut, as he thinks of what he knows will happen: he will let them all down.

Jester places a hand on his arm, and he can’t stop himself from thinking of that warm feeling he had felt, the very first time she had healed him. It had been far from the last time, but he could never forget that moment. “Fjord,” she begins, her accent thick, “You don’t have to be okay, you know. With what Vandren did. With what happened to you.”

Fjord exhales deeply, and its cool enough that he can see his breath on the wind. Jester squeezes his arm and continues, “But it also doesn’t have to make everything else not okay. Sometimes people make mistakes. Sometimes they hurt the people they care about.”

“I guess you’re right,” Fjord sighs and looks up at the deep sky, scattered with constellations. For years they had guided him, even when Vandren wasn’t there. They were constant. That hadn’t changed.

“Of course I am right,” Jester smiles, lifting her hand off of his arm and tucking it across her chest, “and you are wrong, obviously.”

Her voice is teasing now, and Fjord feels light enough to humor her. “Why’s that?”

Her smile turns sly, as if she’s telling him a secret, “Vandren is not the only one who ever cared about you.”

 

-

 

Fjord’s life has changed quite rapidly these past few months. Enough for his distaste of giant snakes to shift to giant fucking dragons. It’s his fault, he knows, for touching the glass without thinking. It’s his fault that everything has gone to shit.

This is magic is still new to him, and he can’t get the timing for his blinking in and out of this reality under control. Slowly but surely his friends are escaping, fleeing. His heart pounds harder every time he blinks in to see the scene before him change. One moment Jester is cornered by a giant blue _fucking_ dragon, and then he’s gone. And then he’s back and shit looks worse.

Closer and closer they all get to escaping until Fjord is on the other side of the fray. He is breathing deeply, each gasp for breath causing sending blooms of pain through his torso. He looks around, sees the others scattered around the room they had once been standing in. It takes a moment for it to register, for the panic to slide down his throat and into his gut.

Jester isn’t here. Which means she’s still in _there_ with the fucking dragon. He’d thought that she had already made it out—he hadn’t seen her…

The rest of the group notices as well and they are all waiting with bated breath. Jester does emerge, and the resulting relief almost drops Fjord to the ground with the weight of it. She is quiet though, and there is something different in her eyes. He wants to reach out, to be the comfort that she had been so many times to him before. Something stops him, and he lets her rest without saying anything.

He has trouble sleeping at first, plagued with thoughts of their time in captivity with the Iron Shepards. Jester had been there, had seemed so positive even when they were so clearly shit out of luck. He had admired that, had been jealous of it. She had been so strong through everything—before and after that. He still remembers the song he had heard her singing in the cell, the melody that had kept them sane. 

Fjord doesn’t want to lose that part of her, especially not to his own mistakes.

He doesn’t talk to her about it. But he does try to be a better friend, tries to make her happy. He sees Nott tease her, but what he notices more is that she doesn’t seem to really respond to him. Earlier in their friendship, he can imagine the delighted smiles and light laughter she would throw his way. It seems like its been such a long time since then.

 

-

 

It feels like everything is moving in slow motion. Fjord sees Jester and Beau trying to fend off one of the fucking monsters from hell, with their pointed arms and wailing moans. He hears the soft sound that Jester makes as one of the Sorrowsworn pierces its arm through her abdomen, impaling her and lifting her up. Fjord meets her eyes, barely registering the panic that is rising his throat, and he watches the light flicker from her eyes as the creature wails once more and delivers the killing blow. Her head droops and her body drops to the ground, lifeless.

Terror and anger and panic surge through him, freezing his fingers and choking the breath from his lungs. This can’t be happening.

Fjord doesn’t think, just runs across the field to her, skidding to her side. He takes a swipe from one of the creatures, but he barely feels it. He fumbles with his satchel and removes the healing potion she had given him. In case I’m not there, she had said, think of it like a spell from me.

His hands are shaking as he tips her head back, trying to pour the liquid into her mouth. Some of the brilliant red substance dribbles out of her mouth, and he feels like he can’t breathe. She’s not moving, not breathing, not waking up. Tears are blurring his vision and scrambles out to grab her hand to squeeze it, to silently beg her to wake up.

He doesn’t care about the sounds of fighting around him, the drop of the heavy creatures as his friends fight for their lives. He doesn’t even notice when the fighting stops.

“Jester!” Nott warbles, leading the charge as their friends huddle around her dead body. “Mr. Clay, do something!”

Caduceus is staring at Jester intently, breathing deeply. “I…I was too far away from her body. Now…we need diamonds if we’re going to do anything.” 

Caleb swears, something in Zemnian that Fjord doesn’t understand but probably agrees with. Yasha’s fists are clenched as she hovers over Jester, but Fjord finds that the only one he can look at is Beau. Her face is paler than he’s ever seen it, and when she opens her mouth to say something, only a sob escapes.

The sound is ugly and loud and uncontainable.

Fjord recognizes it, acknowledges it as the sister to his own grief. It is the sound of a heart breaking.


	2. hello my old heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An attempted Resurrection ritual.

Fjord can’t stop staring at her. She doesn’t look unconscious, her skirts fucking bloody and torn. She looks _dead._ But that can’t be right. Jester _can’t_ be dead.

A heavy hand drops onto his shoulder, but he barely registers it. “It’s going to be okay,” Caduceus says calmly, his deep voice echoing through the cavern they have taken shelter in. “She needs you here, Fjord. Alright?”

He hasn’t spoken since it happened. Every time he tries, he just can’t find the words. So he nods. Beau is sitting on the other side of Jester, her knees pulled up to her chest. Her face is long dry, but Fjord can tell by the hunch of her shoulders and the downward curve of her lip that she is far from okay. Caleb and Nott are sitting by her feet, Nott softly petting Frumpkin and Caleb staring with hard eyes at the body. His fists periodically clench and unclench, but other than that he is still. Yasha is the furthest away, standing guard at the entrance to the cave. She has been equally stoic since it happened, her eyes far away.

Caduceus is the only one who is moving throughout the space, gently setting the ritual. He eventually settles at her head, and looks out to the party, “Everything’s all set.”

“Wait,” Yasha calls, and all eyes turn toward her. She steps carefully, as if she is afraid of the body, and hands some pressed flowers to Beau. Nobody says anything. Distantly, water is dripping somewhere in the cavern.

Caduceus takes a deep breath, exhaling through his nose. He places the diamonds in Jester;s hands, cupped against her waist. “Wildmother,” he says, his voice filling the room, “We call you now to repay the soul which has saved your own. You have tasted her magic before and know that she brings life to any and all who need it. Traveler, if you’re here, and I’m sure you are, return your chosen to us. You know better than any how much this world needs Jester Lavorre in it.”

He pauses and chalk he had drawn around Jester begins to glow. When he looks to the group, his own eyes are glowing a vibrant pink. “Make your offerings. Bring her back.”

Fjord’s heart is pounding too hard for him to move, and he watches a Beau crouches, the flowers hld carefully in her hand. She pulls a blue ribbon from her pocket, the ends fraying from age. “Jester,” her voice is too thick, and she coughs something quietly that may as well be a sob, “Jester, you were the first real friend I ever made. The first family I ever loved. You took me how I was, even when I was rough. You _healed_ me,” Beau begins to choke, and instead of speaking, she begins to place the flowers in Jester’s hair. She threads the ribbon carefully between them, and when she leans back, her face is wet with tears. “Please come back, Jes. Who else would I have sleepovers with? 

There is a pause before Jester’s body begins to levitate. There is no life to it, but Fjord can feel a desperate hope digging its claws into his chest. Caleb clears his throat and Caduceus nods. He kneels over the body and places a gold coin into each of her hands, careful not to disturb the diamonds. “You and I once had a disagreement over coin a long while ago. We didn’t know each other very well then. We, eh, we are much closer now. Now, I would give every penny I have ever made and will ever make to see you alive and breathing, Blaubeere. You must return to us, there are so many pastries you have not yet enjoyed and…I promise that I will see you have them all.”

When he leans back, a soft pink light begins to envelope Jester, emanating from the diamonds on her. The cavern is silent once more, and Nott shifts, “I could, uh, draw a dick on her face?”

Caleb smiles, but Caduceus tuts quietly and looks pointedly at Fjord. Fjord wills himself to move, to fucking _do something_ for once while there is still a chance. But he’s never been good at much besides talking, and he’s got nothing physical to give up. So he talks.

“Jessie,” he croaks, and then clears his throat, “I cannot live in a world without you in it. You have done so much for me…for everyone. You _know_ me—you know me better than anyone here.” He pauses, glancing up to see that Beau and Nott are staring at him with wide, surprised eyes. Caleb’s stare is less surprised. It confuses him for a moment until he realizes that his voice had not been filtered—the secret was out. Fjord’s eyes flickered back to Jester. It didn’t matter. He would give up anything if it meant helping Jester. “I always admired you, you know. You were so brave, so _happy._ You inspired me to be better, and I do not know if I can keep doing it without you here. I love you so _much,_ Jester,” his voice breaks, and he finds he is out of words. What else is there to say that does not boil down to that?

Carefully, Fjord lifts himself up and plants a soft kiss on her forehead. Her skin is cool to the touch, as always. When he leans back, he finds his vision is blurred by tears. Caduceus nods, and there is a bright flash of pink light, the diamonds shattering into dust. Jester’s body holds in the air for a moment before slowly returning to the ground. The light around her begins to fade.

“Did it work?’ Beau sniffles, her voice a gasp against the grief that has taken hold of her. 

Everything is still in the cavern. Fjord feels his heart pounding against his chest, so hard it almost hurts. This needs to work. It has to work. They cannot lose her.

Caduceus looks so determined, his snout beginning to crease as he closes his eyes. Fjord wonders what he’s saying to the Wildmother. He wonders if she’s saying anything back.

It’s not fair that he should have survived, a pathetic sailor that nobody wanted, when this beautiful ball of light lays snuffed out before him. 

It is only because the cavern is so quiet that they hear the small catch of breath that sighs out of the still body before them. Fjord shoots forward, grabbing her hand, and Beau does the same on her other side. “Jester?” 

Her eyes flicker open slowly and Fjord feels weak with relief. Nott lets out a cry of relief and Caduceus sighs, a slow smile stretching his lips. “Welcome back.”

“What…” her voice is weak, and she struggles to sit up, “What happened?” 

“Don’t worry,” Fjord says, clutching her hand for dear life, “Just rest, alright?”

“Okay,” she nods, her eyes fluttering closed again before shooting open, “Fjord!” she hisses, “You’re accent!”

“You knew?” Beau furrows her brow, but neither of them spare her a glance.

“It’s okay,” Fjord nods, his smile strained and wet from his tears, “It’s alright. This is worth it.”

Her answering smile sets firecrackers off in his chest. As the group gathers around her, savoring her presence, he knows. It is alright. And Jester has _always_ been worth it.


End file.
